Happy Pill
by garnet thrill
Summary: Jack/Liz. Jack's PoV. Sleep deprivation leading to a phone call in the middle of the night can reveal more than anyone intended. Oneshot.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Liz Lemon or Jack Donaghy, which is probably for the better because I'd go and steal Gretchen from the Season 1 archives and make her do unspeakable things with Liz. Ahem. Anyway, on with a short author's note and then the actual story!**

Very excited A/N: YES, I'm writing again!

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"What?"

Jack Donaghy didn't normally bother with formalities when it was Liz Lemon, and he wasn't going to start now. He didn't actually know when 'now' was. He hadn't had enough time to look at his phone clock; his mind had only registered 'Liz Lemon' before he hit the green button. Presently, he reached for the clock and saw an illuminated '4:37 a.m.' as Liz's rant (which had been going on for the better part of a minute) started to subside a little.

"...and it pisses me off, Jack! They just don't get it!"

"Lemon, did you ever consider using alternative methods to get your message across?"

"Did you not hear me say that I borrowed Jenna's chicken suit so I could get their attention?"

"Uhh...yes, yes. Uh, I'm sorry about that, Lemon."

Silence. What was he supposed to say now? He cleared his throat to sign off with her. "Well, I'd like to get back to sleep now. Why are you calling _me_ at this time of night, anyway? Don't you have fr– oh, right. Never mind."

A sigh. "Jack, I do actually have friends, whom I _could_ be calling, but I decided to call you instead because..."

She sounded hesitant for the first time in this conversation. He was about to speak, but then a torrent of words emerged.

"Because...I feel better when I'm talking to you, even though you never come up with a solution for my problems. I feel like if I tell you my problems, they'll get sucked away like the birthday present you gave me into the vacuum cleaner. Um, that was a joke. Heh. But Jack, you're like my happy pill. And I want to take you, have you, swallow– Oh my God, what the _what_?"

Jack was left with a dial tone and many, many questions. He didn't get a good night's sleep after all.

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Jack Donaghy's office was never a quiet place. When he wasn't on the phone, the TV was blaring 'breaking news' about some catastrophe somewhere or other. If not that, there was always Jonathan ferreting around, knocking at his door and seeing if he needed anything done. But right now, it was quiet. Jack needed to really, really think.

Thinking about Liz Lemon was something Jack scarcely did. Sure, he spoke with her often enough, but his thoughts of her were skims, like the way his eyes passed over McDonald's signs. But all of a sudden, he was hungry for fast food. Or Liz. He shook his head. This was a bad analogy. He supposed Lemon wasn't really as unattractive as he always made her out to be. She was, for sure, quirky, but didn't everyone have their faults? Lemon...what an enigma. She must have been seriously sleep-deprived the night before.

Jack rubbed his closed eyes briefly to clear the thoughts away. Obviously, she had slipped, but she would be embarrassed enough to know not to do anything. He glanced up from his desk.

"Lemon! Jesus Christ, you scared me. I thought I purposely didn't put WD-40 on that door!"

She was seated in front of his desk, not grinning as usual, but with a strangely somber look on her face. "Jonathan decided to be helpful. Jack, about that phone call last night..."

"Don't worry about it. I already decided to ignore it."

Contrary to what Jack had originally thought it would do, Liz's expression changed to one of slight shock and loss. "Do you really mean that?" she almost-whispered.

Jack was paralyzed. _Think on your feet, Jackie boy. You're good at that._ Come on, come on! "I thought...I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me after that slip." He was about to add a 'but', but he knew that would make him seem indecisive. Problem was, Liz didn't seem to know what to say either.

"Lemon," he said simply, getting up and moving towards the door. He stood next to it, his finger lightly on the knob. Its placement could be interpreted as either about to open or lock it.

"You're my happy pill, Jack. You know what I want. You've always known. It's your decision to make."

Right then, Jack realized what he'd been denying himself by thought-skimming all that time. Who was he to deny Lemon her happy pill?

The lock clicked.

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Give me a happy pill. Write a review. Be scathing if you want. I thrive on criticism and short sentences.


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